Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

side of the building and then reappeared a few seconds later on the left.  
    “Dare’s a window here in da front and a small one in da back.   Neither one iss broken.   I think dat’s weird.”
    “Yeah.   It’s not like this place is out in the middle of nowhere,” said Peter, looking at me fearfully.
    I went up to the window and tried to look in, but it was pretty dirty, on the inside and the outside.   I turned to the guys.   “Should we break it?”
    “Do we have a choice?” asked Peter.   “We have to get those boats loose.   And I’m tired of riding this stupid bike.   My butt crack is permanently bruised.”
    “I hear ya,” I said.   “Bodo, what do you think?   Should we break this window or the one in the back?”
    “Dis one.   The udder one is too small.”
    “Fine.”   I walked up to it and hit it with the butt of my gun.   A few seconds later the smell hit me.   I threw my hand up to my face and backed up.   “Oh, crap.   Someone’s dead in there.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Peter, his face now hidden by the t-shirt he’d pulled up to cover his nose.   “Anyone who died before wouldn’t still smell, would they?”
    “Well, at least we know it is safe to go in,” said Bodo, moving towards the window with a large stick he’d found on the ground.   He used it to bust out the rest of the glass.
    “Unless, of course, they died of something other than the disease that killed the adults,” said Peter.
    I shook my head.   “Well that’s a friggin sunny thought, isn’t it?”
    “I’m just saying … we should be careful.   There’s got to be a reason this place is pretty untouched.”
    “Maybe no one bothered to come out here because it’s a piece of crap that has nothing but canoes and bait.”
    Peter’s face lit up.   “Maybe that’s the smell … rotten bait.”
    Bodo had cleared all the glass and dragged the trailer over so he could stand on it.   He was looking inside when he said, “No, I don’t think so.   It’s definitely people.   Two of dem.”
    “Oh, crap,” I said.   “Can you tell how long ago it was?”
    “Not long.   A few days or a week, maybe.   I’m not an expert in dead thingks.   But dey are not moving, so I’m going in.”
    He laid the blanket that had been covering the grenades over the windowsill, and lifted himself over the edge, disappearing inside headfirst.   His feet were the last things we saw before we heard a crash.  
    “I’m okay!” came his voice from inside.   “I chust knocked over some gas cans.   Empty ones.”
    I went over to the window and climbed up on the trailer to look in.   Bodo was getting to his feet when he saw me.   “Come andt join me.   Dare’s food in here!”
    I glanced at Peter over my shoulder.   “I’m going in too.   Are you okay out here with Buster?”
    “Sure.”   He took his backpack off and got his gun out, laying it on his bike seat while keeping a hold of the handle.   “I’ve got it covered.”
    “Okay.   I’m going to find those keys first.   Then we’ll start loading canoes.”
    I boosted myself up onto the sill and straddled it.   Bodo grabbed my waist from inside and lifted me, setting me down in front of him.   I looked up, realizing nervously that we were only inches apart.   He was taller than I’d ever noticed before - I had to look up to see his face.  
    He was smiling and his eyes were practically sparkling he looked so happy.   He held out his arms.   “Hug for good luck?”
    I shoved one of them away, trying not to smile.   “Get real.   I’m not hugging you with dead bodies behind me.”
    “Dey can’t see you,” he said, not at all dissuaded by my rejection, his arms still out and in position.
    “Maybe some other time.”  
    “Okay.   I’ll hold you to dat, you know.”   He dropped his arms.
    “I’m sure you will,” I mumbled, as I turned and took a few tentative steps towards the cadavers on the floor.
    Both of them had been shot in the head.   The small caliber weapon that did the messy work was lying nearby.   One of the bodies was much smaller than the other - skinny and sickly looking.   I couldn’t tell if it was that way from the process of decomposition or from the fact that the living person hadn’t been well before the bullet had entered her brain.   I could tell she was a girl by the dress she was wearing on the day she died.
    “Dare’s a note here,” said Bodo, picking up a